Raindrops Keep Falling
by Maxiekat
Summary: Natasha tries to convince Clint that it's time for him to come back to SHIELD and to maybe give the Avengers a chance. Post Winter Soldier (no spoilers). One Shot. COMPLETE


Note: I don't own _The Avengers_ or _Dog Cops _or "Wake Me Up" by Avicii. I haven't seen _Captain America: Winter Soldier_ yet, so I have no idea what happens in it and there aren't any spoilers in this one shot – this is just my little version of a possible post-movie scene between Clint and Natasha.

**Raindrops Keep Falling **

_All this time I was finding myself  
And I didn't know I was lost_

Clint was in the park, sitting on the steps leading down to the fountain. It was raining so he'd pulled up the hood to his sweatshirt in a piss poor attempt to stay dry. Not that it mattered - the rain was a nice touch to his brooding.

He closed his eyes and laughed – ever since the whole "event", as the shrinks at SHIELD had taken to calling it, he'd been an emotional mess and that third … or was it fourth … beer he'd had with lunch … okay, it had just been a slice of cold pizza … wasn't helping.

"Found some time to tear yourself away from your new friends?" he asked the person who appeared behind him at the top of the steps.

He could hear Natasha sigh clear down where he was sitting and he grinned. "They could be your friends, too," she said, "if you gave them a chance."

"I did my thing. Shot some aliens. Crisis averted."

Natasha made her way down to him, her boots splashing in the water collecting on the stone steps. He wasn't shocked she was there – she'd tracked him down lots of times after he'd disappeared to lick his wounds and regroup. Granted, this time the "lick his wounds" part of the healing process was taking a lot longer than he would care to admit.

"Coulson wanted you on the Avengers."

"Nice one, Nat. Did my shrink tell you to try that tactic?" He pushed himself up and staggered a bit to the left – shit, maybe it had been five beers? – and grabbed onto the elaborately decorated stone railing for support.

"_Agent Barton is overwhelmed with feelings of guilt, but he still has an ingrained sense of loyalty to SHIELD. By reminding him of his duty to the organization, making him think he'd let SHIELD down if he didn't do what was expected of him, his superiors could succeed in getting the agent to return to an active role in the organization, _" he rattled off as he lurched down the slippery steps.

"You read your file," Natasha stated, her grip tightening on the handle of her umbrella.

"Of course I read my file. Read yours, too – want to know what's in it?"

"Stop this, Clint."

"_Agent Romanoff has a strong emotional connection to her partner, but the reemergence of James Barnes, code name Winter Soldier, has divided her loyalties._"

"It doesn't say that."

"It should, though, shouldn't it?" He sat down again and pushed his hood off, admitting defeat against the rain, against persistent partners, and against his whole goddamn screwed up life.

Natasha sat down next to him, angling the umbrella over both of them. She bumped her shoulder against his, forcing a mock cheerfulness into her voice, like a cheerleader whose heart was no longer in the game. "You're Hawkeye," she said, her sad smile not quite reaching her eyes. "World's greatest marksman. You never miss."

He laughed, but it was a hollow, harsh sound. "Never miss? Right. But there are some things I keep missing the mark on, aren't there, Tasha?" He lightly ran his finger over the arrow necklace that was lying against the base of her throat. She swallowed heavily, her eyes downcast as she dropped the umbrella on the step behind her and raised her hands to the back of her neck to unclasp the delicate chain.

"I …" she hesitated, closing her eyes, the rain clinging to her lashes like unshed tears. Her hands were shaking. "I can give this back."

He laid his hand flat against her chest, pressing the pendant into the warmth of her skin, trapping it. "Keep it. Something to remember me by."

She dropped her hands into her lap and gave him a look that made him realize he'd struck a nerve. _Shit_, he thought_, I'm in for it now._

"Clint, enough of this crap. You need to come back to work. Come back to your life."

"Maybe this is my life now." He shrugged and she punched him in the shoulder. "Ow," he muttered as he rubbed the spot she'd hit.

"This isn't a life, this is a holding pattern."

He stood up again, his Chucks slapping on the stone as he walked down the last of steps. "Did you see Selvig on the news? Naked? Flapping his arms like a crazed bird?"

"Selvig isn't you."

He stopped at the base of the stairs and looked back up at her. "But what if he is? What if my 'holding pattern' is the only thing keeping me from going completely batshit crazy?"

He bent and picked up a rock, testing the weight in his hand. He squinted through the rain at the fountain in front of him, at the angel sprouting from the center of it. He pulled his arm back and released the rock, a satisfying ping following as it bounced off the center of her forehead, several yards away.

He picked up another rock.

"Do that again, and I'm going to shoot you for vandalizing public property," Natasha said from behind him and he laughed, shaking his head.

"Knew all that time with good ol' Truth, Justice and the American Way would rub off on you."

"Steve's a good guy," she said, crossing her arms, her expression hardening. _Great_, Clint thought, _hit another nerve_. "And you'd know that if you'd bother to join us at the bar one of the eight million times I've invited you."

"Too busy. Can't fit you guys into my packed schedule."

"Sleep. Beer for breakfast." She ticked off his shitty life on her fingers as she continued. "A nap. Cold pizza. And then another nap." She dropped her hands and sighed. "Yeah, I can see how it would be hard to find time for anything else."

He tossed the rock, hitting the water instead of the angel. He sat on a bench and stretched his legs out in front of him, jamming his hands into the pockets of his soggy sweatshirt. "And don't forget _Dog Cops_," he said.

"God forbid I forget _Dog Cops_," she said with a smirk and a roll of her eyes. She sat down next to him, looking straight ahead at some jogger dim-witted enough to be out in the rain with them. "It's your own stupid fault, you know," she said after a couple of minutes of silence.

"It's my fault _Dog Cops_ is the best show on TV?"

She ignored him and continued. "It's your fault I need to help Barnes."

He scratched the back of his head. "That actually makes less sense than the _Dog Cops_ thing."

She hesitated for a second, her hand went to her necklace and he couldn't help but notice the way she worried the arrow charm, rubbing it with her thumb and middle finger. Her voice was low, husky and she sounded vulnerable. "You saved me. Gave me a second chance. No one else would have done that."

He closed his eyes, tilting his face to the sky, letting the rain wash over him. The cold was seeping into his bones, the dampness tightening his muscles and making them ache like he was being wound and wound until something in him was going to snap.

"You're my role model," she said and he cracked open one eye so he could catch her grin.

"Pathetic role model you got there, Tash."

"The perfect role model, Clint." She scooted closer to him, her hip resting against his. He let his arm settle over her shoulders, partly for warmth and partly for some sort of anchor – proof he she was real and he wasn't having rain drenched conversations with his imagination.

"Barnes is alone and he's been brainwashed and he needs a second chance," she said, resting her head on Clint's shoulder.

"Then let SHIELD give it to him, then. Or Rogers. They were friends, right?"

"Steve is just as confused as Barnes. And SHIELD …" she hesitated, as if weighing what to say to him. "I don't know if I trust SHIELD right now," she said slowly.

He sat up a little straighter. "Nat, if they're not safe anymore …"

"They're still the good guys, for the most part. But something's not right."

"Great. And you want me to go back to work for them?"

She swatted him on his chest. "I just want my partner back. SHIELD, The Avengers, someone to split the bill with at the bar a couple of times a week. I'll take what I can get."

"And you're serious about helping this Winter Soldier guy?"

"You know I am."

He sighed and tightened his arm around her shoulders, resting his head on top of hers. "Can't you just, I don't know, get a cat or something and forget this whole pet project stuff?"

"So you're saying that if you'd had a dog, I wouldn't be here now because you would have eliminated me instead of bringing me in?"

"Depends on the dog," he said with a shrug. He was expecting a comeback, but the silence that followed raised the hair on the back of his neck it stretched on for several seconds.

"I'm going to pay for that, aren't I?" he finally said, breaking the silence.

She patted him on the knee. "It was nice knowing you, Barton."

Natasha stood up and held out her hand, hauling her partner to his feet. He crooked his arm and she wove hers through it. "Coffee?" he said as he started for the stairs.

"Coffee sounds good," she said as she pushed her dripping hair off her forehead. "And maybe a towel."


End file.
